


In which we burn bodies as bridges

by GraceEliz



Category: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Jedi Culture, Jedi worldbuilding, Lineage Mantras, grieving processes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26288698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraceEliz/pseuds/GraceEliz
Summary: “From the Force I was birthed, to the Force I belong, through fire I will return home.”"I am one with the Force, I am one with my body, I am one with all that I feel."Lineage mantras, and the processing of grief.
Relationships: Depa Billaba & Kanan Jarrus, Ezra Bridger & Kanan Jarrus, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 17
Kudos: 174
Collections: Jedi-Friendly, New SW Canon Server Works





	In which we burn bodies as bridges

**Author's Note:**

> Important worldbuilding I don't really mention:  
> Jedi burn their dead to avoid the desecration of bodies.  
> Meditating with a flame is part of showing respect to the dead.  
> Bodies, ideally, would be taken home to the Temple so the grief can be processed together. The War really messes with the grieving process of the Jedi.

They used to say that Jedi mantras were just grounding, repetitive noises, motions, to leech off excess energy during meditations. To a degree, he supposes that’s true, especially to an outsider. But then… Well, then the War started, and people began to notice mantras, because Jedi will pray when they must, and oftentimes they fall to their knees in the rubble of the cities they free, and tip back their chins.

“From the Force I was birthed,” starts Master Depa, her gentle voice soothing the aches in his chest.

He takes a breath. “To the Force I belong,” he continues the mantra, a long one, but it is theirs, and it is his family, and he can half-hear Grandmaster Mace crooning it to him.

“Through fire I will return home,” his beloved Master finishes, and the scent of ash is sharp in his nostrils, and the tang of grief is hard in the Force, but he has his Master. He has Grey. He has the mantra.

They say the next part together. “From the Force I was birthed, to the Force I belong, through fire I will return home.”

Kanan wakes confused. Where is his mother-Master who was chanting the mantra? Who now must they mourn? And Grey – where is Grey? Grandmaster Mace, his bond –

Oh.

He gets up, and pushes the mantra deep inside himself where it won’t bleed out of the frayed-ribbon bonds leftover from his youth.

Hera finds him later, when he is sat with Ezra, and they are meditating. “So, are Jedi mantras a real thing?”

He opens his eyes, allowing Ezra to crack his open too: meditating on a flame is a symbol of honouring the dead, but fire is a danger too. More dangerous than a child’s meditation. “Yes,” he grits, and focusses on the fire, because if he does not – if he does not, he will cry.  
Ezra is simply waiting, and Grandmaster Mace would surely scold his rudeness. This is his child, and it is his duty to share the lineage mantra with him. 

“From the Force I was birthed, to the Force I belong, through fire I will return home,” says Kanan-who-was-Caleb, and the ghosts of his line with him. “Feel the flames, young one, and meditate with me.”

Ahsoka grumbles as they wait. Why haven’t they just, gone back? The ship is right there and she is cold and tired and hungry and wants to cry but she’s too tired to cry and she wants to go home. “Master. Are we going, or not?” 

“We wait for Obi-Wan,” her young teacher informs her, not even sparing her a look for her attitude. 

Yeah, but why? Why can’t they just go? “Why can’t he just catch up and meditate with you after?”

Those blue eyes roll up to the heavens. “Because, Ahsoka,” he grinds the words out, “Lineages mourn their dead loved ones together.”

... Oh. 

She clears her throat, passing guilt-contrition-forgiveme-iamsorry through their new bond. “Oh.” Who died? Dare she ask? No, best not, Ahsoka decides, watching her Master’s hands twitch compulsively, she’ll wait this one out. Preferably inside. But she can’t. So. She’ll be here, in the cold. Waiting. 

Master Kenobi comes trudging to them. He looks tired, exhausted, and in the Force he is a locked chest, bleeding. His boots drag, and his gloves are blacked by soot. 

“Anakin, dear one,” he breathes when he is near enough, and her Master catches the smaller form of her Grandmaster easily in his arms, carrying him into the shuttle and placing him gently on the floor. She...is gonna go do pre-flight.

“Breathe in, I am one with the Force,” Anakin begins, and oh! Oh, she feels so awful now for her rushing, for being insensitive. 

The ashes stick to her nose. 

“Breathe out, one with my body,” her Master continues, and Master Obi-Wan sobs, grief suddenly flaring into the Force with the intensity of a flash-grenade.  
Oh. So this is what they were trying to tell her, about families grieving together. About soot and ashes and sorrow, and the passing through fire. 

Ahsoka feels younger than fourteen, today. 

“Commander Tano!”

She turns around, smiling at Hardcase. His tattoos always captivate her, the concept of that much ink voluntarily stabbed into the skin so far removed from anything she’s willing to put her own skin through as to be incomprehensible. “Good morning, Hardcase,” she greets with a smile, because she was raised right, Forcedammit. “Can I help you?”

The man’s smile shows he appreciates her politeness, radiating pride into the Force. Pride for her. “General Kenobi would like to know if you’d join him for meditation, anytime before evening meal.”

Ahsoka knows she lights up both physically and in the Force at the request. She hasn’t meditated with her Grandmaster since he’d lost his friend, since she first experienced the transcendence of a lineage meditation. “Of course I will! Where is he?”

“The hangar,” says Hardcase, turning. “I’ll drop you off.”

She bounces into step. “Thank you,” she adds, almost forgetting. “Vorey.”

“Vor’e,” the Trooper corrects gently, and she repeats it a few times until he smiles down at her in satisfaction.  
They enter the hangar, which is full of noise where a team of 212th are playing ball with her companions from the 501st, loud insults and screeches of _cheat, cheat, did you not see that_ rising up. Her Grandmaster smiles when he sees her, a relief in his eyes, and she feels suddenly guilty for avoiding him. All Jedi are fragile after the loss of a loved one. She should make more effort to spend time with him.

“Ahsoka, little one,” he greets her, a soft pulse of warmth through the Force. “Come, sit.”

So they sit, and to her surprise a few of the troops drop into meditation poses, comfortably cross-legged, with them.

“Will you lead, little one?”

She flushes in pride, and closes her eyes. The first step is the deep breath, audible and significant. “I am one with the Force.”

Around her, breaths are taken. The Force begins to twine about them.

She releases the lungful with a whoosh. “I am one with my body.”

Her Grandmaster joins her in the next line. “I am one with all that I feel.”

It is as though the mantra is a key, unlocking the shields so powerful about her lineage-leader. His grief is still raw, tender, a bleeding sad thing. Accidentally, she brushes into it, and is assailed by the taste of ashes and rising smoke that makes her feel sick, but then she feels warm hands wrap around her, steadying, and her Grandmaster chants the mantra down the bond as they work together to untether their griefs. Bodies are burned, and they must let them go. It is the way of things.

 _We are as one_ , he chants, croons, wrapping her up warm and safe in his Force Signature, _we are one in the Force. Do you see how the fire rises, and with it our prayers to the Force? What is your prayer, my child?  
_

She knows this, remembers this from being in the crèche: when one of their own dies, they send a prayer up to the Force in the smoke. Often, it is a sort of personal motto or mantra, something that means a lot to the one praying and also carries a well-wish for the spirit of the deceased. _This too shall pass, but our memory carries you on.  
_

Master Kenobi smiles, gratitude flowing down the bond. “That is a good one, my child,” he compliments out loud, garnering a flush of curiosity from their companions. _Would you care to share in a memory?  
_

Grateful for the opportunity, Ahsoka does as is polite and sends a burst of grateful affection to her lineage-leader for his offer. The memory unfolds, of the Fountains and being young, her own age, with faces she recognises. Master Vos, young and rakish; Healer Eerin, youthfully bright; Shadow Tachi who she’s met only once. And there, the missing one. Garen Muln, pilot in the agricorps. _A dear friend, my brother,_ she hears, and she unfolds the layers of love in the memory as she would unfold a pastry.

“Thank you, Master, for your memory,” Ahsoka says aloud, appropriately thankful to him for the memory. It is a tender thing, sharing a memory. “My prayer goes with him.”

When she opens her eyes, tears mark her Grandmaster’s cheeks, but he is smiling a true smile. “For that, I am thankful. We burn bodies as bridges,” he says, and Ahsoka is beginning to understand why the phrase comforts the older Jedi. Bridges can pass to anywhere.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [THE FORCE WILLS DOCUMENTARY](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26918308) by [js71](https://archiveofourown.org/users/js71/pseuds/js71)




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